“I did,” Anna answered. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The fever came. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. I am shockingly poor. That is very bad indeed. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her.
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